Doone. Small glass Kummel, please. Excellent carminative, these days. Anthony told me so.
Mackesy. (Signing voucher for four drinks.) Most unfair punishment. I only thought of Curtiss as Actaeon being chivied round the billiard tables by the nymphs of Diana.
Blayne. Curtiss would have to import his nymphs by train. Mrs. Cockley's the only woman in the Station. She won't leave Cockley, and he's doing his best to get her to go.
Curtiss. Good, indeed! Here's Mrs. Cockley's health. To the only wife in the Station and a damned brave woman!
OMNES. (Drinking.) A damned brave woman
Blayne. I suppose Gadsby will bring his wife here at the end of the cold weather. They are going to be married almost immediately, I believe.
Curtiss. Gadsby may thank his luck that the Pink Hussars are all detachment and no headquarters this hot weather, or he'd be torn from the arms of his love as sure as death. Have you ever noticed the thorough-minded way British Cavalry take to cholera? It's because they are so expensive. If the Pinks had stood fast here, they would have been out in camp a month ago. Yes, I should decidedly like to be Gadsby.
Mackesy. He'll go Home after he's married, and send in his papers—see if he doesn't.
Blayne. Why shouldn't he? Hasn't he money? Would any one of us be here if we weren't paupers?
Doone. Poor old pauper! What has become of the six hundred you rooked from our table last month?